


First

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-24
Updated: 2006-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish





	First

There's always that moment, right before a first kiss, when Pete is only aware of breath on his and the quivering potential of this droplet of time. Who knows what's on the other side of lips meeting? It could be awful. Teeth could clash, the other person could have misplaced their sense of humour, he might end up getting punched by some jealous boyfriend, it could just be a mess of saliva and cracked skin from too much biting.

Then again, it could be wonderful. It could set his blood fizzing like expensive champagne, it could be just the right amount of soft and just the perfect application of pressure, it might lead to hands in places that feel _good_, it could raise a smile six months later just thinking about it, it could be tips of tongues and taste and lips or hard and fast and so fucking hot his head might explode.

Pete has had a few first kisses in his time. He remembers the days when your first kiss was a big deal, but he doesn't remember his. He thinks it was awkward and he was curious. All he knows is, somewhere along the line he had a really great first kiss and realised that every person is a new chance. Half the head rush of that first instance of breath and mouths and touch is the anticipation of what might come out of it.

He's wanted to kiss Patrick for a good long while. Right now, he's got his notebook on his knees in the hotel room and it's quiet but for the soft breathing next to him on the couch, and he's tried to concentrate on the song attempting to take form but it just isn't coming so he's going to think about Patrick instead.

It's a tricky situation, and fuck knows Pete is prone to messing these kinds of situations up, but he just can't afford to do that this time. Patrick is far too much to lose. They couldn't be closer (okay, well, yes they could but they've already seen each other naked and slept in the same hotel room for months on end on tour and sat up until the sun rises talking about nothing in particular just because they didn't want to go to bed and have the night be over – really, all they haven't done is fuck, and though Pete desperately wants to he's aware that Patrick, well, doesn't) and he just. He loves that kid.

Therein lies the problem. He _loves_ that kid. And the thing about Patrick is, he knows it, and he pretends that he doesn't know it when Pete's calling him at three in the morning just because it's been hours since he heard his voice. Patrick can't _not_ know it. For one thing, there was that time a few months back when they were curled up in the bus exhausted and Pete had woken up still half in a dream, and his nose had been pressed right up to Patrick's collarbone. Patrick's arms were around him, and he'd smelled so … Patrick-y.

Pete had nuzzled and kissed Patrick's neck, still more than half asleep. Patrick had gone still and mumbled, "Pete. Pete, wake up."

"Wht?" Pete had blinked, realised what he was doing, and stopped. "Oh. Sorry."

"Um. 'S okay." Patrick hadn't extracted himself, or done anything but fall asleep again after a while, soothed by the motion of the bus.

Pete had waited until he was sure Patrick was really sleeping, and kissed his neck again. Just once. Just lightly.

Patrick had smiled in his sleep.

Pete really fucking wants to kiss him. Sleepy kisses like those, but not accidental. He wants Patrick to arch his neck up and make tiny sounds in his throat. He wants to kiss Patrick's jaw, his cheek, his eyelids, his nose, make him giggle, then finally, finally kiss his mouth. He wants Patrick to slide his tongue into his mouth, sure and firm, wants Patrick's hands on his sides under his shirt, lifting it up, just touching. He wants to spread the palms of his hands and his fingertips on Patrick's chest. He wants to roll until one leg is either side of Patrick's hips, and grind their pelvises together. He wants Patrick to groan and grip with his hands until his skin bruises. He wants the kiss to suddenly be needing, hard, _devouring_. He wants their hands to work at each other's trousers until they're around their knees, and he wants friction and heat and the wetness of their mouths and the hardness of their cocks slipsliding together and right now, right now he really fucking needs a wank. Or to lean to his left, where he knows Patrick is sleeping, and nuzzle him.

He goes for the second option. "Hey, Patrick, you awake?" he murmurs.

Patrick makes a small noise and turns towards Pete. The contact, when it comes, is sudden, a clumsy movement and Pete has a lap full of warm sleepy best friend. Patrick's eyes are closed, but he's half smiling, and these are the moments Pete forgets when it gets too dark to see.

He can't not. He just _can't_ not do it.

Patrick's mouth is inches from his own. He has to lean down a little, but his neck doesn't mind too much. He kisses Patrick; a quick peck so there's contact and it's friendly but doesn't give too much away. Not too much. (Not enough.)

Patrick doesn't wake up, but maybe he was a little anyway, because for a second Pete could almost swear that Patrick kissed back. It wasn't much, just a suspected pucker and press, but it was enough to make Pete's heart beat oddly. He looks at Patrick. Still asleep, he thinks. Maybe it was just his imagination.

He decides what the hell, and tries it again. Lets his lips linger for a couple of seconds, pressed against Patrick's.

As first kisses go, it's – it's. It's.

It's reciprocal.

Patrick shifts and mumbles, "You're digging into me." Pete wonders for a second or two what he means; when he realises, he flushes.

"Uh. Sorry." He tries to shift his groin so it isn't near Patrick's back, but Patrick's hand comes up and presses lightly on his chest.

No, _splays_ on his chest.

"Patrick?" Pete whispers. Clears his throat.

"Sleepy. Lie down?" is his reply. He blinks, and lets Patrick guide him into a horizontal position. Their legs are tangled. He pinches himself, just to make sure.

"Um," he starts, but Patrick's fingertips are lazily stroking his arm and the tingles are spreading. He gets a nuzzle, and – and. Oh.

Patrick is kissing his neck. Maybe, a little bit. That was definitely a nose nuzzle. He angles his neck and gives a tiny whimper. "Pete," Patrick whispers against his skin.

He kisses Patrick, catching his mouth and his tongue and they fit perfectly and Patrick is _wrapped around_ him and really, on the whole, it's the best first (second?) kiss he can remember having and he's having trouble breathing. Patrick presses his nose against Pete's, stilling the kiss for a moment, and Pete opens his eyes. Patrick is looking right at him.

Pete cups his head with one hand and kisses, soft and hard and open and wanting all at once. Patrick makes small sounds in his throat. Pete has one leg hooked over Patrick's hip, and they're both rocking their pelvises in rhythm, and why they are still wearing clothes is beyond Pete because this kiss is _fucking_ hot and if he'd known it would be like this he'd have jumped Patrick months ago. As it is, he could do with an extra hand so he can keep himself upright, undo his and Patrick's jeans, and still have his fingers in Patrick's hair because that, in and of itself, is entirely pleasant and he'd like to go on doing that please.

In the end it's Patrick's hand that scoots between them, unzipping zips and unbuttoning buttons and generally being very helpful. They wriggle, and slide, and there _oh fuck there_ is skin on skin and Patrick is _hard_ and Pete grinds into him and growls and Patrick arches and neither of them last very long but it's good and it's frantic and it's friction and skin and heat and contact and trying to put their hands everywhere at once; and then it's bursting and salty sharp smells and the kiss broken while each of them in turn shudders and tries to remember to breathe and clutches at the other's arms.

Afterglow kisses are pretty nifty, Pete decides. Soon there will be tissues, and they'll have to move, and maybe they'll stumble over to the bed and curl up with more room than they've got on this couch. Maybe they'll sleep (seems like a good idea at this point) and maybe they'll do some more of this when they wake up. For now, Pete just smiles and kisses Patrick.


End file.
